


This Isn't An Episode of Buffy

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [27]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Dies, Feral!Derek, M/M, Pining, Then comes back, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:06:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4290189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles felt like the world had tilted beneath his feet and was moments from falling away entirely. He'd hoped, of course he'd hoped, but he'd never dared to <i>believe</i>... "Derek?" he whispered around the lump in his throat, his eyes stinging. "Derek, is that you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn't An Episode of Buffy

The wolf left a trail of blood behind him as he dragged his prize back to his den-- this would feed him for some time. He could smell other wolves nearby, and had already had a couple of close calls. There was one scent he almost recognized-- one he remembered loving, being comforted by-- but the rest were strange, and could not be trusted. He knew he should move on, should find his own territory, but _this_ territory felt right-- felt like his.

He wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Stiles couldn't remember the last time he'd ran this fast. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ran at all, but that didn't matter right now. He'd been wandering through the Preserve, aimless as he often was these days, lost in thought, when he'd heard it. A howl. In victory or agony Stiles couldn't say, but nor could he mistake the source: there was a werewolf in the Preserve.

Of course, there were often werewolves in the Preserve. A whole pack of them lived just down the road, but Stiles was sure that none of them were responsible for the sound. He only came to the Preserve when he was certain to be alone, he couldn't afford for the others to know he was there, and he knew for a fact that Scott had called a pack meeting to talk about their current kelpie problem that very afternoon.

So Stiles was running. He could be about to meet something dangerous, a reckless Omega or an angry Alpha, perhaps, but he didn't care. The last time he'd heard something like that had been the last time he'd breathed easily, and if this was leading him to the last time he would breathe at all, he didn't care. He _had to know_.

The wolf was running too, towards the pounding heartbeat coming his way. He was downwind of it, and with the heartbeat came the comforting, almost-familiar scent. He needed to know what that scent was, who owned it.

They met in a clearing, the wolf bursting out of the brush, fangs bared-- but he froze when he caught sight of the other occupant of the clearing. It was a human boy, but that scent...

Stiles felt like the world had tilted beneath his feet and was moments from falling away entirely. He'd hoped, of course he'd hoped, but he'd never dared to _believe_... "Derek?" he whispered around the lump in his throat, his eyes stinging. "Derek, is that you?"

The wolf tilted his head-- the boy was speaking, asking for someone named Derek, but who was this Derek? He stalked a slow circle around the human, looking him over. The sight of him was familiar, too, but still he could not place it. Carefully, the wolf approached.

Stiles was shaking now, crying though he didn't know it, but he didn't dare to reach out. "Derek," he sobbed. "Derek, please, say something."

The wolf frowned. "Who the hell is Derek?" he asked, voice rough from disuse.

Stiles' heart dropped into his stomach. " _You're_ Derek," he choked out. "Don't you remember?"

He shook his head. "I don't know you, but you... smell familiar."

Stiles let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Shit," he breathed. "Shit, _shit_ , Derek. What the fuck happened to you?"

Derek-- apparently that _was_ his name, for the human's heartbeat never skipped-- bared his teeth. "Kate did. She killed my family and took me as her _pet_. Who are you, and why do I know you?"

"Because I'm a member of your pack," Stiles answered weakly. "Kate's dead, Derek."

Derek growled, but it wasn't as convincing as it should have been; the human wasn't lying. "Impossible," he insisted. "I only escaped yesterday, and I didn't kill her."

"Your uncle did," Stiles told him. "Years ago. What you remember, what you've... experienced, it's not what happened."

Derek was confused. "You're... not lying," he said slowly, taking a step back. "What... What's going on?" He hated how lost his voice sounded.

"I don't know," Stiles whispered, not daring to move. "But if you come with me, we can figure it out, I promise."

Derek growled. "I don't trust you," he spat before turning and sprinting away, trusting his wolf over the human.

Of all the things Derek could have said to Stiles, this was perhaps the worst. He opened his mouth to call out, to keep Derek from leaving, but found he had no voice. All that remained were the sobs that were shaking him to his core, and the force of them brought him to his knees.

Stiles stayed there until it was dark, but Derek didn't come back.

* * *

Scott, Boyd, and Allison were deep in a conversation about the kelpie problem when Erica and Isaac, who'd been wrestling for the remote control, suddenly froze and looked to the loft door. "Is that--?" Isaac asked, eyes wide as he glanced from the door to Scott, who tilted his head and focused his hearing.

"Stiles?"

Stiles crashed into the room a few moments later, tripping over his own feet and a doormat someone had placed in front of the door, and straightened up to see everyone staring at him. He froze. "Close your mouths before you catch flies," he snapped, trying for casual and missing it by several miles. "I am still a member of this pack, you know."

"Of course you are," Scott said soothingly. "We were just surprised to see you."

"Well, you can stop now," Stiles said, smiling. "I'm here and I'm queer and I'm not taking your bullshit." He threw himself down beside Isaac and sighed. "So, how about them kelpies?"

The rest of the pack exchanged glances before refocusing on the matter at hand. "They're taking up residence in the duck pond in the park, and along the slower parts of the river," Isaac reported.

Allison frowned. "Kelpies don't normally like running water."

"Maybe they're adapting," Stiles suggested. "I read somewhere that they're susceptible to silver, so I guess we finally get to test out some silver bullets."

Allison hummed thoughtfully. "I can get my dad to give me some, as well as some silver arrowheads," she said. "It's worth a shot." Isaac and Scott snorted at the pun, and Allison rolled her eyes fondly.

"Is that everything, then?" Erica asked Scott. "We know where they are and how to kill them - so can we move on?"

Scott frowned thoughtfully. "We should probably have a backup plan," he said slowly.

"Yeah, we do-- Allison's dad. And fire. They're water creatures, right?" Isaac said casually.

"Yeah, exactly," Erica agreed. "Allison can shoot them full of silver, Isaac and me can man the flamethrower."

"Isaac and I," Stiles corrected automatically.

Erica stuck her tongue out at him. "So until Allison's dad can get us what we need, I think the matter's closed."

Scott shrugged one shoulder. "Fair enough," he conceded.

Erica's grin was more than a little scary. "Then I vote that the next issue to be raised should be where the _hell_ Stiles has been lately."

"I second that," Boyd and Isaac said at the same time. Scott sighed.

"Alright. Stiles?"

Stiles shifted uncomfortably. Maybe coming here had been a bad idea. "I've been around," he said slowly. "I just need some time on my own."

"It's been seven months since Derek died," Scott said gently. "We all miss him-- but we're a pack. We're supposed to grieve together, and we miss you."

"It almost feels like you died with him, some days," Isaac added.

"Some days I feel like I did," Stiles admitted. "It's just... It's been so hard. And now..."

"And now we're starting to move on," Allison said softly. The rest of the pack looked at her in surprise, and she gestured to the room at large. "Look at us-- We all still miss him, but we take care of Beacon Hills on our own. We do what we need to, and we're still a pack."

"Are you saying you don't need him anymore?" Stiles asked carefully.

The rest of the pack exchanged glances, and after a moment Scott spoke. "We miss him, and want him back, but... We're coping. Like Allison said-- we're moving on. Slowly."

Stiles sighed. "Guess you guys are doing better than me," he muttered, standing up. "I should go."

Scott moved across the room, laying a hand on Stiles's shoulder. "Stiles... We want to help. You're still pack, and our friend."

"I appreciate that, bro," Stiles said honestly, offering Scott a weak smile. "But you can't help me with this."

Scott sighed, tugging Stiles into a hug. "We're all here for you," he reminded Stiles before letting him go.

"I know," Stiles said, his smile a little stronger this time. "I'll see you guys soon, okay?"

"You'd better!" Erica snapped, but she was grinning.

Stiles raised a hand in lieu of a goodbye, and left.

* * *

The human was back.

Derek watched him from the brush for a while; he seemed to be wandering, but with a purpose. After a while, Derek realized he was trying to find that clearing that they'd met in before. The wolf debated with himself for a while, but eventually his curiosity won out, and he stepped from the brush behind the human. "Why are you here?"

Stiles near jumped out of his skin, but he turned to face Derek all the same, his heart beating wildly. "I'm looking for you."

The wolf studied the human. "Why?" he asked after several long moments of silence.

"Because I'm worried about you," Stiles answered. "I went to the rest of our pack, I was going to ask them for help, but... it seemed like it would be a bad idea. So I'm all you've got, and I'm not going to leave you alone like this."

Derek frowned. "Pack?"

"Yes, your pack," Stiles said patiently. "You have a pack here. You're-- you're their alpha."

Derek's frown deepened. "I can't feel them," he stated.

_Shit_. Of course Derek was an omega now. "You've been away for a long time," Stiles offered. "And they're kind of working things out without you. But you are still their alpha; they'll accept you back as soon as you're ready, I'm pretty sure."

Derek considered that for a moment. "I don't want to meet strange wolves," he said finally. "Who are you?"

"My name is Stiles," Stiles said. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, okay? I only want to help you."

Derek narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is a 'Stiles'?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "A shortened version of the monstrosity that is my real name. Trust me, you don't want to know."

The exchange felt familiar, but Derek didn't question it. Instead, he asked, "Why should I trust you?"

"Because, like I said, I'm all you've got," Stiles answered. "And because a part of you knows that you trusted me once before."

Derek didn't want to admit it, but the human-- Stiles-- was right. "That was then," he said. After a moment, he added, "Why do we remember different things?"

"I don't know," Stiles said. "All I know is that I lost you, and I never thought I'd get you, any part of you, back." He took a breath. "I want to help you figure this out."

Derek eyed Stiles cautiously-- the human was telling the truth, but Derek wasn't quite sure about trusting him with even this much. His wolf was silent on the matter. "We can... try," he said eventually. That was all he was willing to give.

It felt like every muscle in Stiles' body relaxed, and he breathed out a long sigh of relief. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Okay. Let's start somewhere simple. What do you remember?"

Derek took a deep breath. "Kate Argent... she killed my family and took me, Peter, Laura, and Cora. The other three were... Hunters tested things on them. I was Kate's."

Stiles wanted to get lost in how awful that sounded, but there was something important there, something he needed to know. "Can you _remember_ that happening?" he asked. "Can you actually remember Kate taking you and the others, or were you just told about that?"

Derek glanced away, frowning-- he'd never thought about it, but... "I... don't know," he answered finally.

Once again, Stiles felt a swoop of relief. Maybe Derek had been trapped in some form of alternate universe, but it was looking more and more like this was still _his_ Derek, not a Derek that belonged to that world. He didn't say any of that, though. "Do you remember how you got here?" he asked instead.

"I was running," Derek said slowly, sorting through the haze that always covered memories made by the wolf. "I heard a gunshot, shouting, and then... It just stopped."

"Were you shot?" Stiles asked, his mind working furiously. Did Derek have to die in that world, too, in order to return to his own?

Derek shook his head. "I don't think so," he clarified. "I didn't feel any wolfsbane."

"Then I don't understand," Stiles whined, frustrated.

"And you think I do?" Derek demanded. "I don't remember you, or this 'pack' you claim I have, and I certainly don't remember Kate being killed-- and believe me, that's something I would dearly love to see."

"Trust me, I know," Stiles said. "You were _so_ bitter that Peter got there before you did."

"What happened here, then?" Derek asked, looking at Stiles intently. “To me.”

Stiles sighed. "This town is pretty much always under attack from some creature or other," he started. "This time, it was this evil hell-bitch sorceress. She really had it in for you, and she was hurting members of the pack to get to you. She captured some of them and incapacitated others. And then... she targeted someone who was very important to you."

Derek mulled that over. "So I went after her?"

Stiles nodded, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "You knew it was a trap, but you walked straight into it anyway. And she killed you." _Right in front of me_.

That did sound like something Derek would do to protect someone he loved. "I'm not dead," he pointed out.

"We didn't know that," Stiles argued, his voice slightly strangled. "We had no reason to think that you weren't."

"So I just-- what, disappeared?"

"You _exploded_ ," Stiles said. "We weren't washing your insides out of our hair for the next few days or anything, but that's the only way I can put it. All this light, and we all saw you being ripped apart. And then, yeah, you vanished." He sighed and looked away. "Right before Scott killed her, she told us you'd gone to hell where you belonged."

Derek snorted. "If that's true, she wasn't wrong," he said bitterly.

Stiles winced. "You'll never know how sorry I am for leaving you there," he said softly.

"You thought I was dead," Derek pointed out. "You didn't do anything." He sighed, glancing away from Stiles. "I need time to think," he announced before turning and slipping away without a sound.

Stiles wasn't nearly as surprised as he had been the first time, but it still hurt to see Derek running from him. He didn't allow himself to linger this time, and left moments after Derek. He could try again tomorrow.

* * *

The boy was back.

Derek could hear him wandering through the woods to their clearing, and the wolf decided to beat him there. As such, he was waiting when the human finally arrived. "Hello."

Stiles was a little surprised, but decided it was a good thing that Derek had come to meet him. "Hi," he said warmly. "I hope you don't mind that I'm here." He'd left it a few days, needing his own space to think through what he was doing just as much as Derek did, but eventually the need to _see_ Derek, to prove to himself that he really was back, had won out.

Derek shook his head. "You seem to have all the answers. This place... It's different, but familiar. Like I've got two sets of memories."

Stiles nodded; that was definitely a good sign. "I guess all we have to do is help you to properly remember the second set," he said, blowing out a breath as he realised the magnitude of that task. "Easy peasy."

Derek snorted. "Yeah, easy," he said. "Tell me about the pack."

"What do you want to know?" Stiles asked.

Derek shrugged. "I know nothing of any of them," he answered.

Stiles sighed and folded himself to the forest floor; this was going to take a while. "Well, they're mostly werewolves at this point, but we do have some non-werewolves, too," he said. "We have a banshee, Lydia Martin, and a couple of humans. Allison Argent and me. And maybe Danny, I'm not sure if he counts yet 'cause that's kind of your decision."

"Argent?" Derek asked sharply, eyes narrowing. "There's no way I'd _ever_ let one of them in my pack."

Stiles grimaced. "Allison's different. Her and her dad, Chris, they don't agree with what Kate stood for. They're good people."

Derek bared his teeth. "They're Argents," he spat. " _Hunters_."

"They have a code," Stiles insisted, holding his ground. "And they stick to it. They don't harm any werewolf or any _creature_ that doesn't harm people."

"Not all hunters stick to the code," Derek growled. "No matter what they say."

" _These ones_ do. They're good people, Derek, I swear."

Derek snorted. "I suppose you'd know better than me," he conceded reluctantly after a moment.

Stiles sighed. "You know it, too," he said quietly. "Or at least you did. It took you a while but you even started to trust Chris, even though he's Kate's brother."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Derek muttered. "What about the banshee?"

"She's cool," Stiles promised. "Super cool. Super smart, too. I was kind of in love with her for a little while. Okay, a long while."

It took Derek no time at all to realize that what he was feeling was _jealousy_. "Useful?" he asked, voice clipped.

Stiles nodded. "Very useful. She translated the Argents' bestiary from archaic Latin one time."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "That... is impressive," he allowed.

Stiles grinned. "Yeah, Lydia's awesome."

And Derek was now officially uncomfortable with this line of questioning. "Tell me about the betas," he said abruptly.

Stiles was a little surprised by the sharpness of Derek's tone, but he rolled with it. "They're all bitten," he said. "Scott was bitten by your uncle Peter, and then you bit the rest after..."

"After what?" Derek prodded.

Stiles winced. "After you killed Peter."

Derek tilted his head, frowning. "Why did I do that?" He couldn't imagine a scenario that would cause him to actually go through with killing a family-- pack-- member.

Stiles looked away. If he could spare Derek this pain, even just for however long it took for him to get his memories back, wasn't it the right thing to do? "Trust me, you don't want to know," he said quietly.

Derek studied Stiles for several long moments, neither of them saying anything until Derek eventually nodded jerkily. "Fine. What are the names of the other betas?"

"Isaac, Erica and Boyd."

”Why did I bite them?"

"Because you needed to build a pack," Stiles explained. "Scott didn't really like you at the time, and after Peter died you were alone. So you made yourself some betas."

"Why them specifically?" Derek pressed. "I wouldn't bite random people."

Stiles nodded. "Isaac was being beaten by his father; Boyd had no friends and was more than a little depressed; Erica's life was ruled by her epilepsy. You chose them because you thought the bite would help them."

That... sounded about right. Derek remembered his mom once telling him that if he ever had to choose a new packmate, someone to offer the bite to, he should choose someone who would have a better life as a wolf. "Thank you," he said quietly, mind working through everything. "I'll see you... later." Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked off into the woods once again.

This time, Stiles followed him. "Wait!" he called, hurrying up to Derek's side. "Where do you go when you run off like that?"

Derek shrugged. "Got a den," he answered truthfully. "It's comfortable enough."

Stiles' jaw dropped. "A den, like, in the ground?"

"Yes," Derek answered, confused. "Where else would my den be?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You're not an actual wolf, you know. You have a home."

"It burned," Derek said bluntly. "And I don't remember this pack you've been telling me about. So, no-- I don't."

Stiles sighed. "Of course I'm not suggesting you go back to the loft," he said carefully. "But the house you remember burning, well, it _did_ burn, but it's still standing. And you were actually doing some work on it, before. It'd be a lot more comfortable than wherever you're sleeping now, if you think you can handle being back there.”

Derek glanced away, debating with himself before admitting quietly, "I don't know if I can."

Stiles nodded; he could understand that. "Well, I'm not going to force you," he said. "But I don't think you should keep sleeping rough, either. Even werewolves need some home comforts." He thought for a moment. "What if I came with you?"

"Maybe," Derek allowed after another moment of thought. "But not today."

Again, Stiles nodded. "Okay," he said quietly. "Whenever you're ready."

"Thank you," Derek said sincerely before shifting and leaving Stiles behind.

* * *

It turned out that Derek was ready exactly a week later. Stiles, who had been with Derek every day, talking him through various things about his life in this world and listening when he was willing to share his experiences in the other world, quietly suspected it had something to do with the fact that it had rained pretty hard the night before, but he wasn't going to complain. Instead, he offered Derek a soft smile, and asked, "Are you sure?"

Derek nodded, hiding the slight twinge of nervousness he still felt. "Yes."

"Then follow me." Stiles led Derek through the Preserve, along a path he was sure Derek still knew, until they finally emerged in front of what was once the Hale house. It wasn't as bad as it had been back when Peter was running rampant, but it still quite obviously needed some work. Derek had been right in the middle of renovating it before he died - got sent to an alternative universe, whatever - and half of it was almost finished, if looking a little run down after nearly a year of neglect; the other half was actually starting to crumble a little bit. Stiles turned to Derek and offered him an awkward little head jerk. "Home sweet home."

Derek stared for a long moment at the husk of a house before him. "Why was I rebuilding?" he asked finally. "Why not just tear it down?"

"It was your home, I guess," Stiles said flippantly, like he and Derek hadn't spent hours talking about it, going over and adapting Derek's plans to match his and the pack's needs. "You wanted to salvage as much of it as you could."

Derek made a thoughtful noise, beginning to circle the house. He stopped on one side, frowning down at the soil beneath his feet. "There was something important here," he declared.

Stiles inhaled sharply. "What makes you say that?" he asked.

Derek's brow furrowed in concentration. "It feels important," he said after a moment, shrugging.

"Well, that's because it is," Stiles said slowly, inching towards Derek. "Do you want to look at the rest of the house?"

"Why is it important?" Derek asked, not looking at Stiles.

Stiles closed his eyes. "You don't want to know," he said quietly. "Please, Derek."

"What happened?" Derek insisted-- he could almost remember, but the memory was just out of his reach, and it frustrated him.

"Derek, _trust me_ , you don't want to know," Stiles begged.

"Yes, I do. Why won't you tell me?"

Stiles' voice shook. "Because I don't want to hurt you."

He was telling the truth, but Derek needed to know. "Stiles. What happened here?"

Stiles didn't have a choice. He opened his eyes, his gaze landing automatically on the ground he and Scott had dug up, violated, so long ago. "You buried Laura here," he whispered.

Derek went completely still. "Laura?" he choked out, heart clenching in his chest. No wonder he'd felt so... alone these past weeks since escaping-- no, returning. "What-- How?"

Stiles grit his teeth, dug his fingernails into his palms to keep from reaching out to Derek. "Please, just leave it at that."

"No, I can't," Derek replied, finally looking at Stiles. "Please. You know these things, you remember them; I don't."

"And you're lucky," Stiles told him. "I want you to remember what you had before more than anything, believe me, but what happened to Laura almost destroyed you the first time. If you can stay ignorant for just a little bit longer, it's worth it."

"And if I remember it on my own?" Derek challenged. What he was about to say next was a low blow, and he knew it. "What if it nearly destroys me when there isn't anyone around to help me?"

Tears immediately sprang to Stiles' eyes, and he hated himself for being so weak but they both knew that Derek had him. "Peter killed her," he said thickly. "He recovered from the fire, and he killed Laura, and then he used her alpha power to bite Scott and go on a crazy, murderous rampage."

Derek felt like his legs were going to give out. "Peter--" Scratch that, they did-- Derek collapsed to the ground with an audible _thump_ and buried his face in his hands. "He killed her?"

Stiles was at his side in an instant, slipping an arm around his shoulders and a hand into his, Derek's memory loss be damned. "He wasn't in his right mind," Stiles soothed, anguished. "The fire, it... it twisted him. After he killed Laura he went after everyone who had anything to do with it, and he destroyed them; he just destroyed anyone who got in his way, as well."

Derek accepted the comfort, leaning into Stiles just a bit-- he may not know the human, may not remember him, but he still could not shake the feeling that this human was trustworthy. "Is that why I killed him?" he whispered, broken. "Why I killed my own pack?"

Stiles gave Derek's hand a squeeze. "He wasn't your pack, not after what he did," he murmured. "He was your alpha because he took Laura's power away by force, not because he earned it in any way. You did what you had to do."

Derek made himself breathe slowly and deeply. "I guess," he muttered. "I just-- Why Laura? She didn't have anything to do with the fire."

"He needed her power," Stiles said quietly. "He was _wrong_ , Derek. There's nothing rational about what happened."

Derek sighed, letting his head fall to Stiles's shoulder. "Did he try to come after me?" he asked quietly, as if afraid of the answer.

"He did," Stiles answered, rubbing his cheek on the top of Derek's head to stop himself from pressing a kiss to it. "You came back to Beacon Hills when Laura disappeared, and we think he wanted to kill you, too. But Scott kind of complicated matters by getting himself bitten."

"You said Peter killed Kate?" Derek asked.

Stiles nodded into Derek's hair. "Slashed her throat.”

Derek made a pleased noise in the back of his throat. "Good."

"Yeah," Stiles whispered. "It was."

Derek stayed like that for a while before he eventually sighed. "Is Peter still dead?" he asked. "He... was always very determined."

Stiles pulled back at that; Derek deserved to be looked in the eye when he was told this. "He found a way to come back," he said carefully. "He mind-fucked Lydia into helping him. But he's not around anymore; he left a while ago."

Derek let out a slow breath. "Is he still pack?"

Stiles shook his head. "No. He gave up that right a long time ago."

* * *

The rest of the pack was gathered in the loft, finalizing the plan of attack for dealing with the kelpies. Scott glanced around, frowning. "Has anyone seen Stiles lately?"

"Not since he barged in here, acting like a freak," Isaac answered.

Erica frowned. "Didn't he say he'd be around more after that?"

Isaac shrugged. "Stiles says a lot of things."

"He stands by his word, though," Scott said, needing to defend his friend-- even though he was not so certain about Stiles's behavior now. Derek's death had hit them all extremely hard, but Stiles suffered more than anyone.

Isaac snorted. "Yeah, like he stood by it when he said that he'd help us after Derek died; that we'd help each other. I'm surprised we recognised him when he walked through that door."

"You know Stiles and Derek--"

"I do know," Isaac agreed sharply. "Which is why we needed him. We needed to heal as a pack, and we've been forced to try to get through this without one of the most important members."

Erica reached over, laid a gentle hand on Isaac's knee. "Stiles was the closest to Derek," she reminded him. "It's not just about what we needed."

Isaac huffed. "We could have helped him!"

"You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped," Scott said, resigned. "I missed him too, and I wish he would have stayed with us and let us help, but Stiles... he's always felt like he needs to do things himself, like he can't burden anyone else with his problems. It just got worse after his mom died, and when I got bitten and became a werewolf, he didn't want to seem weak."

"So then what's he dealing with now?" Erica asked. "He reached out to us, said he was coming back, and now he's gone again. So what's happened this time that he has to deal with alone?"

"I don't know," Scott answered, frustration evident on his voice. "He doesn't answer any texts or calls."

Isaac's gaze softened. "Yours, too?"

"Yes," Scott admitted. "I haven't heard anything from him since the day after the meeting, and that was just him insisting he was fine."

Isaac sighed. "So what do we do?" he asked.

"I don't know," Scott sighed. "For now, I guess we focus on the kelpies, then worry about Stiles."

None of the pack look pleased with that answer, but they all knew that Scott was right.

* * *

The sheriff looked up from his files when he heard the door open; Stiles came into view a few moments later, and the sheriff gestured to the stove. "Made dinner," he said. "Since you didn't say when you'd be back." Not that he ever did, these days.

"Thanks," Stiles muttered, shuffling over to the stove to take a peek inside the pot. "I hope this is veggie."

The sheriff rolled his eyes. "No its filled with steaks," he said dryly.

Stiles didn't seem to hear him. "Good," he said absently, dropping the lid back onto the pot and lighting the gas beneath it. "I'm gonna go and get changed. Watch that for me?"

The sheriff nodded, getting up to stir it a bit before Stiles came back down. "So," he began after Stiles had a bowl and had sat down. "I haven't seen you around here lately."

Stiles shrugged. "I've been busy," he said simply. "With Scott and everyone.”

"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then why has Scott been asking me the same question I just asked you?"

If being caught in the lie made Stiles uncomfortable, he didn't show it. "Okay, then I've just been busy with stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" the sheriff pushed; it worried him, Stiles's behavior ever since Derek's death.

"Just stuff," Stiles told him. "Nothing exciting, trust me. I've just... I've been keeping myself occupied."

The elder Stilinski's expression softened. He remembered the feeling, the need for distraction after his wife died. "Just... make sure it's healthy, okay?" he said finally; he didn't want his son to follow in his footsteps.

Stiles gave him a look that said he knew exactly what his father was thinking. "I'm not in any trouble, Dad," he said, and then, because his father deserved at least some of the truth, "I'm just... hanging around the Preserve. The old Hale house. Y'know? To be close to him."

The sheriff sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze his son's hand briefly. "Take your time mourning, son-- but don't waste your whole life on it."

Stiles smiled weakly and squeezed back. "I'm working on it," he promised.

The sheriff nodded. "Good. If you ever want to talk--"

"I know," Stiles said. "Thanks, Dad."

* * *

Stiles had been doing some research on Derek's predicament, of course, but he could only go so far while he still wasn't certain of exactly what had happened. Eventually he conceded defeat, and decided that he needed help. A cautious visit to Deaton seemed to be in order; he waited until he saw Scott leaving work one night before approaching the clinic and knocking sharply on the locked door. He'd been avoiding the pack for weeks now, and he had no doubt that Scott had been anything but silent in his frustration, but hopefully that didn't mean Deaton would turn him away.

Deaton was certainly surprised that Stiles had come to him, but he had to admit he was curious as to why. "Stiles," he said, opening the door. "Come on in. What can I help you with?"

Stiles had pushed past Deaton before he'd even finished speaking, and was fighting the urge to wring his hands or pace like what he wanted was a matter of some importance. He needed to play it cool, and Stiles was _awful_ at cool; already he was practically radiating nervous energy. Still, he had to try. "I've just been doing some research, y'know, of the supernatural variety," he said casually. "And I came across something that I didn't understand. I thought you could help me?"

Deaton studied Stiles for a moment. "I can try," he conceded.

"What do you know about alternative universes?" Stiles asked.

"I know they exist," Deaton replied thoughtfully, moving to start sorting out a new shipment of needles. "There have been records of crossings, though they usually require quite a bit of power to accomplish if not aided by natural forces."

"So a witch could do it?" Stiles asked. "Or something like that."

"Theoretically," Deaton admitted. "They would need to really focus all of their power, but it could be done."

"Interesting," Stiles said slowly. "So, say a witch did zap someone into an alternate reality, and say they got back somehow. Would they still remember our reality?"

"I would imagine it would depend on what happened to them in the other universe," Deaton answered. These were some... oddly specific questions.

"And if they couldn't remember?" Stiles pushed. "How would you help them to get those memories back?"

"The same way you might with any other amnesiac; show them familiar things," Deaton replied, his eyes narrowing. "Is there something you'd like to share, Stiles?"

Stiles' expression immediately cleared to one of complete innocence. "No," he said sweetly. "Why do you say that?"

Deaton hummed thoughtfully. "No reason," he said. "But Stiles-- if you've found someone from another universe, I would not recommend working with them on your own."

"I haven't," Stiles lied. He was starting to sweat. "I just thought it was interesting, is all."

"Mhm. Is there anything else I can help you with?" Deaton might have to take a trip to the Preserve.

"Umm, nope, I think that's it," Stiles said, inching towards the door. "I'll come back if I need to."

"Of course. My door is always open," Deaton said, watching Stiles leave. Once the teenager was gone, Deaton began gathering the materials he'd need for his trip that night.

* * *

Stiles went straight back to Derek. The full moon was fast approaching and he'd been acting a little weird lately, quick to anger and easily frustrated by both Stiles and himself. As such, Stiles didn't like to leave him alone for too long.

Derek didn't look happy, exactly, when Stiles arrived at the Hale house and let himself in, but he rarely looked happy these days. "Hey," Stiles said gently, offering a smile. "How's it going?"

Derek growled, low in the back of his throat. "I feel strange wolves on my territory," he muttered. "I know you said they're pack but I don't remember them."

Stiles grimaced. "I know it's hard, but you have to try to ignore it. This is their territory as much as it is yours."

"So you've said," Derek grumbled. That was the only reason he hadn't sought out these wolves to chase them from his territory; Stiles insisted they were pack, or had been once, and Derek trusted Stiles.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Stiles asked.

Derek sighed; he hated to have to ask for this, but... "Physical contact?" he asked, trying to hide how pathetically hopeful he felt. "You're the only one I recognize as pack."

God, Derek had no idea what he was saying and Stiles had to remember that. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to calm the swooping of his stomach, and then nodded. "Sure. I can do that."

Derek gave Stiles a small, grateful smile before shifting a bit closer. "Thanks," he muttered. "I... This is the only thing that will really help, I think." He frowned thoughtfully; something was tickling on the edge of his mind, but when it didn't appear after a moment, he let it go. Perhaps it would come back later.

Stiles closed the gap between them and laid a hand on Derek's arm. "I get it," he said. "You used to be quite tactile, before.”

"Before I apparently got zapped into another world?" Derek suggested, a hint of bitterness in his tone as he shifted Stiles around until there was maximum contact between them, his wolf settling slightly.

Stiles winced. "Yes, before that," he agreed, the words a little more forceful than he'd intended. They fell silent for a few moments, before Stiles asked, "Is this helping?"

Derek nodded. "A lot," he murmured, feeling himself starting to drift off.

Stiles sighed. There was more he wanted to say - he wanted to ask Derek about the upcoming full moon, and how in-control he was used to feeling versus how he felt now - but he could tell that Derek was falling asleep and he didn't have it in him to disturb the peace. Better to let Derek sleep, and cross those bridges when he came to them.

* * *

Derek was restless, extremely so. The past few days, Stiles hadn't been able to come out to the Preserve, and Derek had no way of contacting him-- no way was he going anywhere _near_ the town, not until he was in control and knew exactly what was going on, which most likely wouldn't be for quite some time yet. Tonight was the night of the full moon, and even though moonrise was still a few hours away, Derek could already feel it pulling at his wolf, an itch under his skin that wouldn't be soothed. Needless to say, when Stiles did finally show up, Derek wasn't in the best of moods.

"I know, I know," Stiles said tiredly, dropping his bag to the floor with a heavy _thunk_ and crossing the room to give Derek a hug. It was weird, showing physical affection towards this Derek when he'd never done so with _his_ Derek, no matter how much he might have wanted to, but it was a pill he just had to swallow. As they'd discovered during Stiles' last visit, the contact helped, and Derek looked like he was about to come apart at the edges. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't get away. My dad took some time off to help me, well, to help me with something. How are you doing?"

Derek accepted the hug, returning it, though he frowned at Stiles's question. "It's the night of the full moon," he said bluntly. "How do you think I'm doing? Full moons were... bad, over there."

"How bad?" Stiles asked.

Derek shot Stiles a flat look. "They hunted us. Turned us loose in a large, caged area and hunted us."

Stiles shuddered. "There will be other people in the Preserve tonight," he said. "The pack and some of the Argents. They won't be hunting anyone, just making sure that nothing goes wrong. I'm guessing you weren't very... reserved on the full moon back there?"

Derek snorted. "What do you think?"

"Then maybe we should do something about restraining you tonight," Stiles suggested.

" _What?_ "

Stiles winced. "Man, even on the actual night of the full moon, I've never seen you this tense before," he told Derek. "That tells me that you're going to be a _nightmare_ tonight, and if any part of wolf-you thinks that you're back with the Argents in that other place, then you're going to be on the offensive. I know you don't think any of the Argents here are pack, or any of the other wolves for that matter, but they are and they're my friends, they're _our friends_ , and you'll never forgive yourself when you get your memories back if you kill one of them."

Derek bared his teeth. "So put a mountain ash circle around me, if you're that worried. But I'm an _alpha_ , Stiles. Not much can hold me."

"That would work perfectly if I _had_ any mountain ash," Stiles snapped back. "I haven't exactly been pulling my weight in the pack lately so I haven't had any need to keep up my supply, and I can't just go and ask for some without them wanting to know why I need it. I did, however, arrange an alternative." He knelt down beside his bag and unzipped it, revealing the heavy metal chain concealed within.

Derek eyed the chain warily; Stiles _did_ have a point, but Derek really doubted that even that would be enough to hold him if he was provoked or if his wolf got too anxious. "Fine," he said shortly. "The basement has better beams."

Stiles wasn't sure if he should be impressed that Derek had bothered to look around or not. One the one hand, he was living here currently, but on the other the memories of what he'd once had here must have been even more painful now than they had been back before everything had gone to shit. "Lead the way," he said simply, hefting the bag back onto his shoulder.

Derek led Stiles down the steps to the basement and over to one of the sturdier support columns. "This one is the best, I think," he said, turning so that his back was resting against the column.

It took Stiles a good ten minutes to get Derek tied to the column, and when at last he stood back to survey his work, he was sweating. "Think that'll hold?" he asked.

Derek tested the chain, nodding after a moment. "It's probably the best thing we've got right now," he said, looking back to Stiles. "What about you?"

Stiles shrugged. "I'm not leaving, if that's what you mean," he said. "I have to keep an eye on you."

Derek studied Stiles for a long moment before nodding. "Okay."

* * *

Of course, Derek got out. The chain, which had almost defeated Stiles, proved no match for Derek's alpha strength. After suffering under Derek's barrage of insults for over an hour, Stiles opted to wait the moon out upstairs in the refurbished sitting room, and was just starting to drop off when an almighty crash snapped him back to the present. Stiles made it to the hallway just as Derek slammed his way out of the basement and came barrelling straight at him. When a werewolf was that angry, Stiles knew, it was impossible to reason with him - so Stiles just got out of the way and let Derek loose on the Preserve.

He spent the rest of the night wide awake, shaking and waiting for the call to tell him that Derek had ripped one of his friends' insides out.

* * *

Scott was in shock. He looked at the Sheriff, then back down at the phone in his hands. "You're certain?" he asked, voice choked-- last night had been the full moon, and there'd been a strange wolf in the Preserve, but none of them had been able to track it down. It seemed, however, that someone else had: Deaton.

The sheriff nodded. "I'm sorry, son, but dental records confirmed it."

Scott swallowed hard before taking a deep breath. "Okay. Thank-- Thank you for letting me know." Without another word, he dialed Stiles's number.

Stiles jerked awake and scrambled for his phone, barely registering the caller ID before answering it and holding it to his ear. "Scott?" he rasped, frantic. He'd finally fallen asleep sometime around dawn on Derek's sitting room floor, and as far as he was aware Derek wasn't back yet; Stiles had no idea what he'd done last night.

"Stiles," Scott said, relieved that Stiles had actually picked up. "There was an omega in the Preserve last night-- they got Deaton."

"Got as in _killed_?" Stiles asked, his stomach dropping.

Scott nodded, then remembered Stiles couldn't see him. "Yeah; he was found this morning by a jogger. Looked like an animal attack, but there was a strange wolf scent all over him. Police are ruling it an accidental death."

"My God," Stiles murmured, still in shock. "Um. Do you know who did it? Did you come across them on your run last night?"

"No," Scott answered, his frown evident in his voice. "They evaded us. Whoever they are, they're obviously not new to this life."

Stiles closed his eyes, thanking whatever god was out there for this, at least. "Well," he said weakly. "Maybe they were just passing through. With a bit of luck they're already gone."

"Maybe," Scott said, still frowning. "Anyway, we're going to meet up at the loft to talk about what to do now. Without Deaton as an emissary..."

"I should leave you to that, then," Stiles said quickly, but with feeling. "And listen, Scott, I'm really sorry about Deaton."

”No, you shouldn't just 'leave me to it,'" Scott retorted, ignoring the part about Stiles being sorry about Deaton for now. "You're pack too, Stiles, even though you don't act like it nowadays. So you're coming, too, or we'll hold the meeting at your house instead."

"Scott, I can't right now," Stiles protested. "I want to be there, but I really can't."

"Why not?" Scott challenged. "Stiles, you're the only one of us who can really handle mountain ash-- Lydia isn't as good as you at it, so we're going to need you now more than ever. Plus you're the best of us at research, and you've always got some of the best ideas. We _need_ you, Stiles."

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "I can't," he said again, pained. "I really hope that you'll understand soon, that I'll be able to explain it to you, but right now I just can't. I'm sorry."

"Stiles, what the hell is going on?" Scott asked desperately. "Do you know something about this omega?"

"No I don't," Stiles snapped. "I think if I'd noticed a wild and dangerous werewolf none of us have ever seen before wandering around the Preserve, I would have said something - don't you?" It wasn't even a lie, which Stiles was working to his advantage. He didn't want to hurt Scott, but he needed to be left alone.

Okay, that had been a bit unfair of Scott. He sighed and apologized. "We're just all worried about you; I meant it when I said you're still pack," he said softly. "Just... be careful, okay? We want you back safe and sound."

"I'm working on it," Stiles promised. "I just need some space."

"Okay," Scott said quietly, defeated. "Just... keep in touch."

"I will. And I'm here if you want to talk, about Deaton or anything, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Talk to you later, bro."

"Later." Stiles hung up with a sigh. He needed to find Derek.

* * *

Derek was holed up by one of the streams that ran through the Preserve; when the sun was high in the sky-- almost noon, if Derek was to guess-- he headed back to the Hale house; he'd washed blood from his hands and face that morning, and he remembered stalking something, the scent of his prey's terror filling the air, and flesh parting beneath claws and teeth when the prey fired a wolfsbane dart at him; it missed, but he was not going to stand for letting himself be attacked.

Derek arrived at the Hale house just as Stiles was getting ready to leave; Stiles smelled of stress and worry, and Derek frowned. "What's wrong?"

Stiles didn't know if he should feel relieved or angry. He settled for both. "What's wrong?" he asked, incredulous. "What's _wrong_? You went out last night and murdered one of our friends - that's what's wrong!"

Derek's frown deepened. "Who?"

Stiles sighed. "Scott's boss, and the pack's emissary. Deaton."

_Shit_. "That explains the dart," Derek muttered before glancing to Stiles. "I'm sorry. I-- I thought I was back there." It was true enough; when the hunter-- _emissary_ , Christ-- had fired at him, Derek had thought something had gone wrong, that he was back with the Argents after all, and he hadn't thought, just let instinct guide him.

"What dart?" Stiles asked, because he couldn't tell Derek that killing Deaton was _okay_ , no matter how much he might want to soothe him.

"I came across him, and he smelled... odd," Derek explained. "He must have heard me or something, because he fired something at me-- I could smell the wolfsbane, but it didn't sound like an arrow; smaller."

"Did it hit you?" Stiles asked, his concern thinly veiled.

Derek shook his head. "I ducked, but it almost did. That's what... what made me think I was back there."

Stiles could understand that, he supposed, but he still wasn't going to make excuses for what Derek had done. "Well, I'm glad you're safe," he said stiltedly. "If you want to stay safe, you might want to watch your back."

"The other wolves aren't happy?" Derek guessed. "Did they recognize me?"

"No," Stiles said, "and I'm glad they didn't. But now they think that a rogue omega is running around their territory and killing members of their pack. They're out for blood."

"Shit," Derek hissed. He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Why not tell them the truth? Surely they deserve to know." It was something that had been bothering him; his wolf didn't recognize these wolves as pack, but maybe if he just saw them, or even caught their scent…

"No," Stiles said again, firmer this time. "They... they fell apart after you disappeared. They still need you, don't get me wrong, but they need their _alpha_ , not... whatever you are now. Seeing you like this would just hurt them more. I'll go to them when you're back to normal."

That didn't seem quite right to Derek-- shouldn't pack help each other? Surely it would be more of a help if Derek were able to see "his" pack, interact with them, and get to know them again. Still, Stiles had been here for... however long Derek had been gone. He probably did know better than Derek what their pack needed. "Okay," he said finally. "I... Okay."

* * *

The loss of Deaton hit the entire pack hard, but they couldn't really do anything until they found the rogue omega-- as such, patrols were stepped up. It was Isaac who eventually found the first clue. He'd tracked the omega's scent to the old Hale house where he ran into a surprise: Stiles's scent was extraordinarily strong here. Isaac had called Scott, who'd come out to the Preserve to meet Isaac and check it out for himself, confirming Isaac's suspicions: Stiles was spending a _lot_ of time here, and was definitely hiding something from them. Scott decided to try once again to get to the bottom of things, sneaking into Stiles's room when he knew the other teenager would be there.

"Jesus Christ, Scott!" Stiles crowed when Scott climbed through his window, simultaneously toppling out of his chair and trying to minimise the research on parallel universes he had up on his screen. He finally managed it and allowed gravity to do its job, hitting the floor with a hard thump. "Fuck, what are you doing here? And why have you forgotten where my front door is?"

"Because I needed to talk to you, and you've been avoiding me," Scott retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "What have you been doing at the Hale house?"

"Who says I've been at the Hale house?" Stiles shot back instantly, his eyes narrowed.

"My nose," Scott replied, his own eyes narrowing at the challenge in Stiles's. "Your scent is all over that place-- _fresh_ \-- and so is the omega's."

Stiles blinked. _Shit_. "I'm there because it's the closest I can get to Derek," he said honestly. "I don't know what the omega's scent is doing there."

"Stiles, c'mon," Scott said, exasperated. "Quit _lying_ to us! Both scents are the same age, and yours is only slightly weaker-- that means you've most likely been there _while_ the omega was!"

"Then maybe he's super sneaky," Stiles said. "Scott, listen to my heartbeat. I haven't noticed any strange werewolves lurking around the Hale property while I've been there."

Stiles's heartbeat didn't waver, and Scott blinked. "Then who is the omega?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Stiles asked sharply, in lieu of an answer. "Isn't that your job? I'm trying to get some work done here, so if you don't mind."

"It's the _pack's_ job," Scott bit out. "You're supposed to be pack, Stiles." With that, Scott turned and marched to the window, disappearing out of it.

Stiles flopped back into his desk chair, his face in his hands. What the hell was he doing?

* * *

He went back to the Hale house the next day, against all of his better judgement. If the pack was starting to wise up, he was going to have to start keeping his scent away from the property, and from the Preserve altogether ideally, but he couldn't leave Derek alone. He honestly didn't know what the pack would do if they found him.

Stiles might not have to worry about the pack finding Derek, but rather the other way around-- Derek had picked up two strange-yet-not scents near the house the night before. He couldn't quite place them, but he knew that he knew them, or used to know them. Something about the scents was familiar, almost comforting, and brought up flashes of memories too quick for Derek to catch.

When Stiles arrived, Derek pounced on him, scenting him vigorously-- he could smell one of those strange wolves on Stiles's clothing; faint, but there nonetheless, and this time he caught glimpses of memories.

_Don't be such a sourwolf_.

_The bite is a gift_.

_I'm not letting you kill Lydia_.

They flashed through his mind, each one slotting into place slightly wrong-- just enough that he knew he was missing some details, like what these other wolves looked like, but he could remember other details, like: "Scott?"

"Umm?" Stiles said, slightly disoriented by the unexpected assault. He pushed Derek away and stepped back, hoping to clear his head. "Yes, that's Scott's scent. He paid me a visit earlier; they know we've been hanging around together."

Derek frowned, thinking. "Scott's pack," he said slowly. "He's one of my betas, but I didn't bite him."

Stiles' mind raced. Had he told Derek this already? "You're right," he said after a beat. "Peter bit him."

"After he killed Laura," Derek stated, still thinking. "I... We used Scott as bait, didn't we?"

" _What_?" Stiles asked, his mouth agape. "What do you mean?"

"I think I remember him roaring? You called me a sourwolf, after." Derek frowned; he was starting to get a headache, but he was _remembering_. He thought.

"Oh, my God," Stiles breathed. His heart was hammering, his throat suddenly dry. "Do you remember? Do you remember us?"

"Some," Derek said, his frustration evident. "But it's more than I used to. I think... I smelled Scott and another male near the house, and then when I smelled him again on you..."

Stiles nodded; that made sense, and why the fuck hadn't he thought of that before? "Scott's really important to you," he told Derek. "I don't really know why, because he was kind of a dick to you for a long time, but you've always wanted him on side more than anyone else."

Derek frowned; that didn't sound quite right... He shook his head. "Not Scott," he corrected. "You."

Stiles didn't want to believe that his heart had just skipped a beat, but he could tell from the look on Derek's face that he was the only one in denial. "No," he said firmly. "Scott. You liked me fine after a while, but Scott's always been the one you've focused on. It's a wolf thing; you've seen him as a brother ever since Peter bit him."

Derek shrugged. "Yes, I wanted another packmate-- but Scott... I remember he didn't want to be a wolf at all." Derek frowned, trying to remember and find the right words to explain. "But you... You helped me. A lot. I... trust you. Always."

Stiles actually stopped breathing for a few seconds there. "I know," he said quietly, his eyes wide. "I know. I just... I didn't know if you did."

"I do," Derek insisted. "I trust you."

"Okay," Stiles said, nodding. "That's... Thank you, I guess."

Derek smiled and followed his gut, leaning in to press his lips gently against the human's.

Just beyond the treeline, Isaac covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide, before turning around and bolting away, headed for the loft; he had to tell the rest of the pack.

Stiles allowed the kiss for all of three seconds before shoving Derek back, horrified. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?!"

Derek's brow furrowed in confusion. "Kissing you?" he hazarded; had he not done it right?

" _Why_?" Stiles demanded. His breathing was coming hard and fast, and he had to back up a couple of paces, unable to stand having Derek so close.

Derek wanted to follow Stiles, wanted to take him in his arms, but something in Stiles's body language warned him not to. Instead, Derek stayed where he was as he explained, "Because I care about you. I remember that much."

"No," Stiles spat, tears springing to his eyes. " _No_. You don't get to say that to me, not now. Do you know how long I--" He cut himself off, scrubbing the back of his hand furiously over his mouth as though that would erase the words. He tried again. "You don't know what that means, for you to say that. You don't know what you're doing."

"I know what it means," Derek insisted. "I care about you, more than I would for just any packmate. I remember caring about you before... whatever it was happened."

Stiles was shaking now, wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to stop. "Please," he begged, without knowing what he was asking for. "Please, I can't--"

Derek stepped forward, gripping Stiles's upper arms gently. "I love you," he said quietly. "I remember that."

Stiles sagged into Derek's arms as his knees gave out, and then he was crying freely into Derek's chest. "You died," he sobbed when he finally had the breath to speak. "And I never-- I never..."

Derek wrapped Stiles up in his arms, offering comfort as he gently stroked one hand up and down Stiles's back. "I'm sorry," he murmured, resting his cheek on the top of Stiles's head. "I'm sorry."

* * *

Not too far away, Isaac had just made it back to the loft, where the rest of the pack was gathered per his request. He burst through the door, his eyes wild, and declared without preamble, " _Zombie sex_!"

Everyone had startled-- even the wolves-- when Isaac had thrown open the door, his heart going crazy-- but zombie sex? "We've got zombies now?" Scott asked, looking at Isaac curiously.

"We've definitely got one!" Isaac cried. "That's what Stiles has been doing all this time, he's been having _zombie sex_ with _Derek_!"

The betas all leaped to their feet, but Scott was still the one who spoke. "Derek's back?" he demanded. "And Stiles _knows_?"

"I just saw them kissing in the Preserve!"

Everyone exchanged worried looks, but it was Allison who spoke first. "Wait a second-- could Derek be the 'omega' that killed Deaton?" she asked. "If he's a zombie..."

"Then Deaton might come back," Isaac finished for her, looking horrified.

"Oh, my God," Lydia murmured. "Stiles, what have you _done_?"

* * *

While Isaac and the other betas had been all for confronting Stiles right away, Allison and Lydia had insisted on researching first-- they needed to know what exactly they were dealing with. Lydia did most of the online research while Allison looked through the bestiary; what they each found confirmed their research: Derek's reanimated body was being controlled. The only way to put Derek to rest was to get Stiles to stop using whatever magic or charm he was utilizing to keep Derek 'alive.'

Armed with that information, they all cornered Stiles in his house a few days after Isaac's revelation; when Stiles opened the door, Allison spoke up. "We know about Derek."

Stiles had known this day was coming, and he wasn't even surprised that now that it had come it seemed to warrant a visit from the pack in its entirety; he'd just been hoping for a little bit longer, was all. He sighed. "Okay," he said, stepping back from the door. "Come in."

They hadn't been expecting him to capitulate so easily, and they all exchanged uneasy looks before moving into the living room. "We know you brought Derek back somehow," Lydia started. "But he's killed Deaton, Stiles-- and he could do it again. You can't control him."

"So we need you to stop whatever spell you're using," Scott finished for her.

Stiles stared at them. "What?" he asked at last. "I'm not using a spell. He came back on his own."

The humans glanced to the wolves, who nodded; Stiles's heartbeat was steady. "That's impossible," Allison said, confused, but Lydia looked thoughtful.

"Where was he, then, if he wasn't dead? We never actually buried a body..." Which they should have thought of earlier; that really put a hole in their whole zombie theory.

"Some alternate reality," Stiles answered. "A really horrible one, actually and-- did you guys _seriously_ think I'd brought him back as some kind of _zombie_?" Isaac looked at the floor and shuffled his feet, and Stiles' jaw dropped. "Isaac, that's disgusting!"

The blush already staining Isaac's cheeks deepened. "You're telling me!"

"How did he come back?" Lydia cut in; Isaac's embarrassment wasn't what was important here. "If you had nothing to do with it..."

"I don't know," Stiles answered. "He doesn't know. He doesn't remember much of anything, actually."

"You're saying our alpha lost his memories?" Erica demanded, horrified.

Stiles nodded. "All he can remember is what happened to him in the other reality. Some stuff is starting to come back to him, but it's difficult for him to differentiate."

"Then what happened with Deaton?" Allison asked.

Stiles sighed. "I don't know, exactly. Derek thought that he was back there and thought that Deaton was a threat. He attacked."

Scott frowned. "Well, of course Derek attacked-- Deaton's dead."

"It wasn't his fault," Stiles said tiredly. "He didn't know what he was doing."

"Deaton's dead because of him! How is that not his fault?" Scott demanded

"Because he doesn't know who Deaton is!" Stiles insisted. "He was scared and alone and out of control; he did what he thought he had to to survive."

Scott opened his mouth to argue further, but Lydia cut him off. "Stiles, why didn't you tell any of us what happened? Derek's our alpha, too."

"He didn't know that," Stiles answered. "He was scared and alone and he didn't trust _anything_ around him. If I told you guys you would have all come down on him, expecting him to be your alpha, and he isn't. I don't know if he ever will be."

"What do you mean? You said he remembers things now, right?"

"That is a very recent development," Stiles defended. "And we don't know if it's going to continue developing. Besides, even if he does remember everything, what happened in that place... I don't know. Maybe I made the wrong call, but I was just trying to protect him, and you guys."

"We're pack," Erica said quietly. "All of us. He needs us, Stiles-- and we need him."

"And you've already lost him once," Stiles points out, his voice shaking. "Could you stand to lose him all over again? I know I couldn't."

"But is it really fair to keep him from us?" Allison asked. "From the rest of his pack? We're all the family he has now, Stiles."

"Fine," Stiles said. He was shaking, angry though he couldn't say why, and ashamed. They were right, he knew, but even as he'd been trying to protect everyone around him, he'd also been selfish. If they were going to lose Derek all over again, he'd wanted to keep whatever time Derek had left to himself. "Come on, then. I'll take you to him right now, and you can be his family."

Stiles sounded angry, resentful for some reason, but none of the pack pried-- they weren't entirely sure they _wanted_ to know what was going on in Stiles's mind. Still, they followed him out of the house and to the Preserve.

* * *

Derek was dozing in the ruins of what he now remembered used to be his house-- the return of those memories hadn't been fun, and had left him shaking and crying in shame-- when he heard people approaching. He carefully approached the door, listening intently-- he recognized Stiles's heartbeat, and the others were all familiar; _pack_ , his mind whispered. _They're your pack._ When they arrived, he was waiting on the porch for them, a bit apprehensive; Stiles had been insisting on keeping them away from Derek, so why was he with them now? "Stiles?" he asked, watching the betas and humans approach-- they all looked familiar as well, and Derek could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on, signalling the imminent return of some memories. "What's going on?"

”They know," Stiles said simply. "They're mad, but not at you. They want to help you." That said, he stepped away from the rest of the pack, and headed back the way they'd come.

Derek watched Stiles go, confused as to why he was leaving, before shifting his gaze to look at the rest of the pack, uncertain as to what to say. Scott eventually saved them from the awkward silence, demanding, "Are you really Derek?"

Derek nodded. "I-- yes."

"Do you know who we are?" Isaac asked.

Derek nodded, then clarified, "You all... look familiar. I know your names, and I know I know you, but I don't remember every little detail. Just the very basics."

"Okay," Isaac said. "We can work with that."

Derek offered them a hesitant smile. "Don't blame Stiles, please," he asked after a few moments. "He was just trying to do what he thought was best."

"We know," Lydia said quietly. "But he should have told us. Everything that's happened since you got back could have been avoided if he had."

"'Everything that's happened'?"

"Deaton," Scott said bluntly.

"Oh." Derek swallowed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry for that. I-- I wasn't expecting the full moon to be that bad, and we didn't have any mountain ash."

"Which is exactly why Stiles should have told us," Lydia said pointedly.

Derek sighed. "I wanted to come find you," he confessed. "I could smell the betas in the Preserve, but I never did; the scents were strange, I couldn't remember them until recently."

"Did we still smell like pack?" Isaac asked, curious.

Derek shrugged. "I was mostly wolf when I came back," he said. "I... It wasn't great over there. I didn't remember anything but what happened there. But the longer I was here, the more I started to remember, and the less strange your scents became."

"So why didn't _you_ come to find _us_?" Erica asked.

Derek swallowed. "I... was afraid," he admitted. "I didn't know how long I'd been gone, I still don't remember many things, and I thought... Well, I thought the same thing Stiles did most of the time: What if seeing you did more harm than good?"

"We're just glad you're back," Isaac said sincerely.

* * *

After that, the pack seemed to make the Hale house their second home; while Derek still avoided the town, sticking to what he could catch and eat in the Preserve, the rest of the pack regularly visited him. It seemed like they were doing it to simply hang out and reacquaint themselves with him, and he with them, and it was certainly helping; while he had a near-constant headache whenever a pack member was around, he was remembering more and more about them. He'd hugged Isaac for a solid fifteen minutes when he first remembered why he'd bitten the teenager, and insisted they all pile together on the mattress he had in the house when he remembered about Boyd and Erica's reasons for accepting the bite.

The most notable absence, however, was Stiles-- the rest of the pack had hardly seen Stiles since the day he’d brought them to Derek, and Derek hadn’t seen him at all. Derek didn't know why Stiles was avoiding them, but he also didn't want to push.

So Scott did.

Make no mistake, he was still extremely mad and upset about Deaton's death, but when Derek had finally told Scott why he'd reacted the way he did, Scott had realized that he really couldn't blame Derek for reacting the way he had. However, once that was sorted, that left the problem of Stiles; or more accurately, how to get Stiles to quit avoiding them all.

It hadn't worked so well the last time he'd tried, but Scott decided to ambush Stiles again. He did use the front door this time, but he let himself in and went up to Stiles's room, leaning against the doorjamb. "So, what are you doing up here?"

This time Stiles had done all of his flailing before Scott got to his room, which meant that he barely reacted when Scott spoke. "Reading," he answered, raising the book he was holding. "What are you doing up here?"

"Checking up on my best friend," Scott answered, moving to sit on the bed. "None of us have you seen you for more than a couple of minutes ever since we found out about Derek."

Stiles shrugged. "I figured I'd monopolised enough of his time," he said. "You guys need a chance to get to know him again."

"I don't know how many times I have to say it, Stiles, but _you're. Pack. Too_." Scott frowned at Stiles. "Seriously, bro, we missed you enough while we thought Derek was dead. We don't want to keep missing you."

"I know," Stiles sighed. He dropped his book onto the desk and scrubbed his hands over his face. "I know. I just couldn't face it."

"Face what?" Scott pressed, feeling like he was getting somewhere for the first time in literal years.

"Everything," Stiles confessed. "The pack. I let you all down, and now Deaton is dead because of me. And Derek." Stiles looked away. "He kissed me."

"He _kissed_ you?" Scott repeated, eyes wide. "Did he-- Did he remember how he felt from before?"

”He said he remembers that he loves me?" Stiles offered weakly.

"He said that?" Scott exclaimed. "Really?" It had been painfully obvious to everyone else in the pack how Stiles and Derek had felt about each other, but they'd never done anything about it before Derek had disappeared.

"I know," Stiles said, sighing. "It should be everything I've ever wanted. But it's not."

“Why not?”

"Because he doesn't remember me," Stiles said. "He remembers that he trusts me, and apparently that he loves me, but he doesn't remember _why_. He only told me because he can't remember all of the reasons why he never told me before. So what if he gets all of his memories back and regrets ever opening his mouth? Where does that leave me?"

"That leaves you know the truth," Scott said firmly. "Believe me, Stiles, I don't think he'll ever regret telling you how he feels. You haven't seen him lately; he _mopes_. It's pathetic."

Stiles didn't want to hear that. "I miss him, too," he admitted, his voice shaky. "Scott, what if I lose him again?"

Scott stepped closer to Stiles, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We will all do our best to make sure that happens," he promised, "but if it does, then you let your pack help you this time. But you can't think of the worst case scenario all the time."

It was hard. He'd already been through so much, they all had - but Stiles knew Scott was right. "Okay," he said. "Okay."

Scott pulled Stiles into a hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I haven't been a very good friend."

"Neither have I," Stiles answered, hugging Scott back. "We were both grieving. I should've been there for you, too."

"No more of that, okay? We both need to be a bit more pushy when it comes to comforting each other," Scott said, chuckling weakly.

Stiles nodded his agreement and pulled back. "So what do I do now?"

"Now you come out to the Hale house with us and you go cuddle with Derek," Scott said firmly, a smile playing around his mouth.

Stiles physically ached with how badly he wanted that. "But what if--"

Scott cuffed Stiles on the back on the head. "Don't think about that," he admonished. "You miss him, and he misses you. So go see him."

So Stiles did.

* * *

The Hale house was all but deserted when Stiles got there, and he suspected that Scott was to thank for that. He was grateful; this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with the pack within earshot. He rumbled his jeep to a stop halfway up the drive and walked the rest of the way, pausing to knock on the door rather than let himself in. After everything, it seemed like the right thing to do.

Derek had heard the Jeep coming, and he'd been waiting anxiously by the door, hoping Stiles would actually come in this time-- He sagged in relief when he heard the knock. Before, Stiles would have simply let himself in, but Derek was just glad that Stiles had come around. He opened the door, trying (and failing) to look like he didn't feel like an overexcited puppy. "Stiles," he said, smiling.

"Derek," Stiles returned, with a tentative smile of his own. "Can I come in?"

Derek nodded, stepping out of the doorway. "Of course; you don't have to ask."

Stiles didn't say anything more until he was inside. "Scott came to see me," he began. "He said I should start acting like pack again, and I think he's right. If you want that."

Derek tilted his head to the side. "Why wouldn't I want that?" he asked, confused. "You are pack."

"I kind of screwed that up a little bit though, didn't I?" Stiles asked.

Derek's expression softened. "You were trying to protect everyone."

"And I got someone killed."

"No, you didn't," Derek countered. "It was a bad situation all around, and it is _not_ your fault."

"It's not yours, either," Stiles pointed out.

"I'm starting to believe that," Derek admitted. "You can't blame yourself, Stiles. Promise me that you'll try to accept that?"

"I'll try," Stiles said. "So, has it been good lately, with the pack?"

Derek nodded. "I'm starting to remember more, the more time I spend with them," he said. "But I've missed you."

Stiles' breath caught in his throat. "Me too," he admitted.

Derek took a tentative step closer. "I'm sorry for overwhelming you," he confessed. "I didn't-- it just seemed like the right time to say something, but it obviously wasn't."

Stiles winced. "It wasn't wrong, exactly, I just..." He trailed off. "I don't know how much you remember about us, but you've never said that to me before."

"I remember being afraid for you," Derek answered quietly. "I remember not wanting you close because everyone close to me got hurt, and you didn't heal as easily as us, and what if I couldn't get there in time, or Scott couldn't?"

"In the end it turned out to be you who got hurt," Stiles said wryly. "How do you feel about it now?"

Derek chuckled dryly. "I feel like you're more prepared than I am, now," he confessed. "I don't-- I still have days where I think this is all some hallucination, that I've finally completely lost my mind."

Stiles made a soft, hurt sound and he took an automatic step toward Derek, although he managed to keep himself from reaching out to him.

Derek was the one who reached out-- it wasn't much, just gently taking Stiles's hand in a loose grip. "But I remember before, remember caring so much about you it hurt, and it terrified me whenever you would insist on coming along to fight with us. It still terrifies me, but now... Now I'm terrified that _I'll_ be the one to hurt you, that I could have hurt you so easily when I first came back."

"But you didn't," Stiles said softly. "If there's one thing I've always known, it's that you'd never hurt me."

Derek smiled, small and a little wistful. "Does this mean you won't avoid me and the pack anymore?"

Stiles gave Derek's hand a squeeze. "Yeah, I guess so."

Derek's smile blossomed into a grin. "Can I kiss you again?" he asked. "I'm sorry if that's a bit fast."

Stiles fought against his own smile. "I don't want you to do anything you might regret later," he said, because he had to be sensible about this.

"I won't regret kissing you," Derek said confidently.

Stiles did smile at that. "Then I guess I can't say no."

Derek's expression sobered. "Only if it's what you want, too," he said firmly.

Stiles' eyes widened. "No, it is," he said quickly. "God, Derek, have you seen you? I pretty much live and breathe wanting to kiss you."

Derek flushed at the compliment. "I-- er, thanks," he said, embarrassed.

Thoroughly endeared, Stiles stepped into Derek's space and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "So please," he murmured, kissing him again, "don't ever think this isn't something I want."

Derek smiled into the kiss, lifting one hand to cup the back of Stiles's neck. "Good," he breathed, pressing closer and deepening the next kiss. They kissed until they were breathless with it, slow and deep and unhurried, and then Stiles made a space for himself in Derek's arms and stayed there, just breathing him in. Derek held Stiles close, his nose buried in Stiles's hair, for several long minutes before pulling back. Even then, he only moved enough so that he'd be heard clearly when he asked, "Is it okay if we take it slow?"

Stiles nodded. "Of course," he said softly. "Whatever you need." They'd been taking it at a snail's pace before Derek disappeared, slower even; this was already more than Stiles had ever dared to hope for.

Derek smiled. "Thank you," he said, voice just as soft. "I like kissing you, and I _want_ to do more, I just... don't feel like I'm ready for that. For a lot of reasons."

"I understand," Stiles told him, and he did. Derek hadn't shared all of his experiences in that other world yet, or even most of them, and already Stiles knew that he had a multitude of reasons to be cautious. "No pressure, okay? Like, negative pressure."

Derek couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Never heard of 'negative pressure' before," he teased.

"I just invented it," Stiles said, grinning. "Anything for you."

Derek's smile widened at that, and he leaned in for a quick kiss. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "For understanding."

"Of course," Stiles said simply. He wanted to say _I love you_ , but he couldn't quite bring himself to speak.

Derek's expression softened, and he leaned in for another long, slow kiss. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," Stiles whispered back.

* * *

Stiles went home that night and told his father everything. The sheriff was, of course, less than happy that Stiles had kept such huge things back from him for so long, but he was happy that Derek was back and he hugged Stiles without a word when he confessed to his hand in Deaton's death. Then he smacked Stiles in the face with a demand for Derek's presence at dinner one day soon. Stiles had stammered out an explanation of Derek's current mental state and fled the room, because what else could he do? All of their own personal brand of drama aside, Stiles still didn't want to bring his boyfriend home for an interrogation and baby photos.

He did bring it up with Derek about a week later, though, and was surprised when Derek agreed. He could remember the sheriff well enough by now to point out that he'd already been interrogated by him once before, and that a dinner table in a home that smelled of Stiles would be far preferable to a cold and impersonal room at the station where he didn't have a friend in the world. So about a week after that, it happened.

Stiles cooked, because he didn't trust his dad, and then drove out to the Preserve to pick Derek up. It was Derek's first time in town since he got back, and Stiles stayed quiet for most of the drive, giving him the space to take everything in and the security of the knowledge that all he had to do was reach out if things got overwhelming. They arrived at Stiles' house without incident; Stiles pulled up and cut the engine, and turned to Derek. "Are you ready for this?" he asked, not for the first time.

Derek gave the question serious consideration before nodding. "I trust your dad," he said. 'Not as much as you' went unspoken, but Derek didn't trust anyone more than he did Stiles.

Stiles smiled, and popped the driver's door. "Let's do this, then."

Derek took a deep breath and followed Stiles out of the car and up the steps, waiting until the sheriff opened the door. "Evening, sir," he said politely, offering the elder Stilinski his hand.

The sheriff, however, completely ignored the gesture in favour of stepping up and just wrapping his arms around Derek. "It's good to have you back, son," he said with utter sincerity.

"Dad!" Stiles squeaked, affronted and indignant on both his own and Derek's behalf. "Would you give the guy space?"

Derek had frozen when the sheriff had hauled him in for a hug, but he tentatively brought his own arms up, returning the hug quickly before stepping back. "It's good to be back," he replied, a bit awkwardly.

"O _kay_ ," Stiles drawled. "Now that we've sufficiently traumatised the boyfriend, can we please go inside?"

"Dinner's on the table," the sheriff said, smirking, before he turned and walked into the house.

Derek glanced at Stiles as they walked inside. "Traumatised, really?" he asked dryly. "Shocked, yes. Traumatised? No."

Stiles shook his head. "If he hears you saying that he'll make it worse. I was not an attractive baby, I can promise you that."

"You were a beautiful baby, Stiles," the sheriff said as they walked into the kitchen. "I have a couple of albums on hand to go with dessert." Stiles was too busy groaning to catch the amused look the sheriff shared with Derek.

Derek hid his smile behind his hand. "Well, considering how well he grew up..." he said, trailing off.

"Oh my God, both of you stop that now!" Stiles whined. "Look! Yummy food that I lovingly prepared with my own two hands. Let's eat it!"

Derek shared a grin with the sheriff before moving to press a quick, affectionate kiss to Stiles's temple as he walked to the sink to wash up. "You're cute when you're flustered," he murmured.

"You're an awful person," Stiles accused.

The sheriff just laughed. "That must be why you love each other so much."

Derek glanced quickly at Stiles, uncertain as to the teenager's reaction. Still, for the sheriff's benefit, he pasted on a smile and shrugged. "Might be."

The rest of the evening went smoothly, but the sheriff was all too aware of the sudden tension that had sprung up between Stiles and Derek. After dessert, the sheriff excused himself to do some work, and as he left the room sent Stiles a look that clearly said _talk to him_. Stiles averted his gaze, flushing guiltily, and stayed quiet.

Derek was the one to break the silence, his back to Stiles as he stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. "It's okay if you don't," he said, pretending the words didn't make his chest ache.

Stiles froze. "It is?" he asked, the words somewhat strangled.

Derek swallowed, but nodded. "Just because your dad assumed something doesn't mean I do," he said quietly, still not looking at Stiles.

Stiles sighed and crossed the room to lay a gentle hand on Derek's shoulder. "Look at me," he implored.

Derek hesitated, but complied; he wasn't sure what was going through Stiles's mind, but whatever it was, Derek was going to deal with it like a man.

"It's not that I don't," Stiles murmured, clearly warring with himself. "Some days, it feels like I always have. I just... I'm scared."

Derek followed his instincts, reaching up to lay his hand against the side of Stiles's neck, his thumb stroking the skin beneath his ear. "So am I," he confessed, looking at his hand instead of meeting Stiles's gaze. "I'm scared you'll decide I'm not worth it, that you're tired of waiting for me to remember everything, and you'll leave me."

"No," Stiles said firmly. "Derek, if you believe anything that comes out of my mouth, believe that that will not happen. The only reason I'd ever leave would be if you wanted me to."

Stiles's heartbeat confirmed what he was saying, and Derek felt the knot in his stomach ease. "Okay," he murmured, looking up. "Same for me-- I'm not going to be the one to leave you."

Stiles' smile was sad. "I believe that you believe that."

Something in Stiles's expression and tone was off. "What do you mean?"

Stiles looked away. "What if you get some more memories back and suddenly remember all the reasons why you didn't want to be with me before?" he asked quietly, his voice small. "What if you get hurt and have to leave again?"

Derek tapped his fingers against Stiles's neck gently. "Hey," he said softly, his other hand coming up to cup Stiles's cheek. "I can't promise anything about the second one, because we can't predict the future, but I can tell you that there is _nothing_ in my memories that will make me leave you now."

Stiles met Derek's gaze, and found nothing but the utmost sincerity there. He nodded. "Okay," he whispered.

Derek smiled, leaning in for a quick, soft kiss. "We okay?"

"Yeah," Stiles answered, smiling back. "Yeah, I think we are."

* * *

A few days later found the entire pack gathered at the Hale house, tape measures and notebooks in hand-- Derek had finally decided that he wanted to continue the renovations he’d started before the sorceress had cast him from this dimension, and touch up the completed sections that had fallen into disrepair in the past six months. "I'm thinking of maybe remodeling the second reception room into a larger entertainment area," he commented, sweeping his arm around to indicate a wall he wanted to knock through. "What do you think, Stiles?"

"I think that's a great idea," Stiles said, smiling.

Derek grinned back, making a note on his own notebook paper. "Y'know," he mused, "I've got enough money saved up I could probably get some really high-end consoles and televisions."

"Seriously?" Stiles asked, beaming.

"Seriously," Derek said, nodding. "Once the house is finished I'm not doing anything else with the money, and I expect you _all_ \--" he said this meaningfully, loud enough that everyone could hear him "-- to chip in for food costs."

"Sweet!" Stiles crowed. "God, I love you, man."

Derek startled, looking at Stiles in shock. "You-- do?"

Stiles just smiled. "Yes," he said softly. "I do. Very much, in fact."

Derek blinked, then beamed at Stiles. "I love you, too," he informed the other man. "Just for the record."

Stiles didn't hesitate to leap on Derek and kiss him soundly.

Derek was dimly aware of various indignant and/or cheerful shouts-- including Isaac crowing at Scott that he owed Isaac twenty bucks-- but he ignored them all in favor of pouring everything he felt for Stiles into the kiss; for the first time since he'd come back from that other place, Derek felt like he was home.


End file.
